“Good. This place is too quiet, and since it’s a hospital they’re very strict on sugar intake.”
Celesta chuckled, then furrowed her brow and bit her lip as she looked down. She fiddled with the buttons on his jacket. “Are you sure? Things are better than they were, but it’s still kind of a mess back home. And you’ll be stuck there with me. I’m not really an elf and I’m not really a pixie, but I’m going to be a queen, and you’ll have to deal with all of that.”
Alex pressed a kiss to her forehead and put a finger under her chin, tilting it up so she met his eyes. “You’re a fairy,” he stated, remembering their first conversation. “More than that, you’remyfairy, Sugar Plum. And that’s plenty enough for me.”
Epilogue
Four years later…
The sounds of whispers and muffled giggles echoed down the long hallway, bouncing off the marble and glass in a gentle symphony of happy sounds, and growing louder as Alex approached the music room. Outside the walls of crystal, night had fallen. A flurry of fluffy snowflakes drifted softly to the ground, tiny sparkles in the light of the full moon. Downstairs, the rooms were bright with the glow of warm fires and flickering candles and buzzing with the merry voices and laughter of party guests, but upstairs the quiet stillness of a winter night reigned.
Alex paused just outside the music room with his ear to the door, listening to the soft murmur of Celesta’s voice as it elicited a peal of shrieking laughter that was immediately shushed. A smile pulled at his lips, and he opened the door just far enough to peek around the edge.
The center of the room was bare, the floor smooth and polished for dancing, and a variety of instruments and shelves of music lined the walls. Alex cast his eyes about, searching for the source of the giggles, until he spied the toes of Celesta’s dancing slippers poking out from underneath the covered piano.
He slipped silently into the room, stepping carefully to mask the sound of his steps on the hard floor. The whispers and giggles continued.
“What do we have here? I thought the party was supposed to be downstairs.” Alex grabbed the cover from the piano and pulled it to the side.
The giggles turned into startled yelps, and Celesta looked up at him with a guilty expression. He caught the slight movement of her hand as she tried to push a plate of chocolate behind her.
“Papa!” His three-year-old daughter’s tiny form barrelled into his legs, and he lifted Clara into his arms. She had her mother’s wide, expressive brown eyes and delicate pixie features, but she had inherited his unruly curls, which for the evening had been tamed by a large red bow on the back of her head. She wore a dress in a matching shade, with a tulle skirt and a back that had been specifically designed to accommodate the pair of tiny wings that sprouted from between her shoulders.
“Has your mother been sneaking you sweets before the party?” Alex asked with a look of feigned disapproval. He shook his head and used his thumb to wipe away the tell-tale streak of chocolate from Clara’s cheek.
“Well, we were just having our own party,” she answered matter-of-factly, tilting her head to the side with a small shrug of her shoulders. “Mama said we could be the treat-testers. Do you want to be a treat-tester, too?”
Her sweet face and tiny voice made his heart squeeze with more love that he had thought possible. He shifted her to one arm and reached out a hand to help his wife off the floor.
Celesta took it and hopped gracefully to her feet. Alex lifted her arm above her head and slowly spun her around. The full skirts of her white dress gently flared out, shimmering as she moved, and tiny pieces of crystal had been sewn into the bodice, matching the tasteful tiara she wore in lieu of a crown. Tonight, she fully looked the part of Queen of the Winter Court.
“You look beautiful, Sugar Plum,” he whispered, pulling her close to his side and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
She gave an appreciative hum as she looked him up and down and straightened the lapels of his jacket. “You don’t look half-bad yourself, Mr. Monde. Red has always been your color. What do you think, Clara? Isn’t Papa handsome?” Celesta reached out and adjusted Clara’s skirts.
“Yes. The handsomest.” Clara’s tiny arm snaked around his neck. “But you’re the beautifulest,” she added seriously.
Celesta gave a light, musical laugh and stretched onto her toes to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “Thank you, darling.” She took a step back and looked up at Alex. “I suppose we should probably go down. It is our party, after all. Is Drosselmeyer here yet?”
“Not yet,” Alex answered, holding the door open as Celesta moved lightly past with a dance in her step. Becoming queen had not changed her nature in the slightest, despite the mountain of responsibilities and the sea of political and social interactions she had to wade through. She still approached each day with the same boundless energy and never-ending well of sunshine and sweetness.
And it was changing the Winter Court for the better. The divisions and superior attitudes that Stahlmaus had fostered were slowly being broken down, and magic of all kinds was celebrated and encouraged. Celesta insisted on judging the members of her Court by their merits and not solely on their heritage, and, combined with her straightforward kindness and humility, she quickly found herself the favorite of those who had been shunned and marginalized as “lesser” under her uncle’s rule.
Of course, there were still those elves who saw his little pixie as weak and an easy target for manipulation, but they quickly discovered that though Alex had taken to spending most of his time studying and pursuing his love of music, he was still a soldier. After the first attempt against Celesta’s life, he had taken to training publicly, if only to remind them that he was a warrior who did not need to rely on magical boosts to his strength and speed. Over time, he began to be joined by members of Celesta’s guard, and eventually the physical threats against her subsided.
The Queen of Winter might have been as sweet as a sugar plum, but her soldiers were impossible to crack.
“Is Uncle Drosselmeyer coming?” Clara’s voice asked excitedly near his ear, interrupting Alex from his thoughts. “Is he bringing presents?”
“Yes, he’s coming,” he answered, turning his head to look his daughter in the eye. “But I want you to be polite and patient when you see him. If he has a present, you need to wait until he’s ready.”
“Yes, Papa,” she answered. Her voice was all earnest sweetness, but he could see the eager excitement in her eyes that told him she would have a hard time reining in her questions.
The sounds of the party grew louder as they drew near, and in a rush of color and light, Alex and Celesta stepped into the ballroom. Celesta immediately spied Lowen and Elsa and rushed over to greet them, and Clara wriggled in his arms to be let down when Diggory waved at her from across the room.
Alex contented himself with standing by the door and looking in. A group of musicians was gathered to one side, preparing their instruments for the night’s entertainment. They took their seats, the lead musician gave an upbeat, and the festive harmonies filled the air.
Tables of food and drink lined the walls, piled high with both savory and sweet treats–though Alex noted with a smile that the selection of sweets was a good deal larger. Guests carried plates in their hands, enjoying the refreshments as they talked and laughed.
